


Burn

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, F/M, Flirting, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: “Well, I don’t think you should.”“Well I don’t recall asking what you think.”





	1. Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JLPierre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLPierre/gifts).



> This one-shot was written during a "Sleepy Sunday" write-off with Pierrej92. She chose the pairings (Draco/Ginny or Harry/Pansy) and I chose the prompt:
> 
> “Well, I don’t think you should.”  
> “Well I don’t recall asking what you think.”
> 
> And this is what happened.
> 
> Aesthetic made by Pierrej92

Ginny waved the bartender over with a slightly shaky hand. “Gimme ‘nother cocktail.” She tapped against her glass, in which there was barely a sip left of the Avada-green concoction she’d ordered before, swirling along the ice cubes.

The man eyed her up and down with raised eyebrows, then disappeared to the other side of the bar with a nod and a shrug.

Ginny turned around on her stool and let her eyes wander over the dancing crowds. The music seemed too loud, the people too cheerful, their clothes too garish in the strobing lights. She didn’t really want to be here. But she didn’t want to go home either. Not when her mother would bemoan her breakup with Harry yet again, even though it had been six months. Not when she would be constantly confronted with pictures of her brothers and their happy, smiling wives. She didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but after a long Weasley brunch where everyone was present and her mother had continued her passive-aggressive attacks on Ginny’s single state with vigour, she resented each and every one of them for finding the happiness that was just out of reach for her.

A tap on her shoulder warned her that the barman had placed a new glass next to her elbow and she reached around to take a sip without looking.

She spat it out as soon as the liquid touched her tongue and turned around furiously.

“Water?”

It was not the barman, however, who smirked at her. It was Draco Bloody Malfoy.

“I asked for another cocktail.”

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder and placed his hands on the bar, leaning closer with a confidential air. “You’ve had quite enough to drink, Weasley.”

Ginny scowled. Who did he think he was, anyway? Bloody prat. “I want to have another drink. Alcohol. I want more alcohol.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, as if to challenge her statement. His eyes gleamed a strange, unearthly colour in the flashing club lights. “Well, I don’t think you should.”

“Well I don’t recall asking what you think.” The words snapped out of her mouth before Ginny could stop them.

Malfoy’s mouth stretched into a toothy grin. “Unfortunately for you, Weasley, I own this club, and if I tell my barman not to serve you anything but water, you won’t get anything but water.”

“It’s none of your fucking business what I do or do not drink, Malfoy,” Ginny hissed, infuriated.

Malfoy leaned just a little closer to her. They were almost nose to nose and Ginny was momentarily distracted by the light, barely noticeable sprinkle of freckles on his nose. Who knew that flawless Malfoy skin was not quite so perfect up close? Her eyes snapped up to his and she couldn’t look away. Had his eyes always been so entrancing? His mouth moved but she was so lost in his gaze that she didn’t register what he said.

“What?”

“I said, Weasley, that it may not be any of my business what you do or do not drink, but it is my business that some unsavoury types have been circling you all night, eyeing you like candy. They tried to bribe the barman to spike your drink. That’s why you’re getting water now.”

Ginny flushed bright red when his words began to make sense. She swallowed with difficulty, her embarrassment quickly turning to anger. “I don’t need _you_ to save me, Malfoy.”

There seemed to be a momentary flash of hurt passing through his features, but it was gone before she could pinpoint it, his face melting into a mask of disinterest. He merely raised his eyebrows, as if in salute, then moved away from her.

Ginny hated how her hand trembled when she took another sip of the water. It was anger, she told herself. She was trembling with fury. Of course she was. But deep down, she knew it was the relief of having escaped a terrible fate.

* * *

It took her a full week to swallow her pride and admit to herself that she should really go back and thank Malfoy for helping her. _Helping_ , not saving, she didn’t _need_ saving… She also didn’t need to spend hours in her room deciding what to wear for this particular encounter. The silk teal dress really was the only appropriate thing she had in her closet. Even if the cleavage was, perhaps, a little deep.

The club was as busy as the week before, but, try as she might, she couldn’t see Malfoy anywhere. She hoovered around the bar, carefully guarding her drink while her eyes searched for the gleam of platinum blond among the masses. Eventually she turned to the bartender to ask where the infuriating git was hiding. “Where’s your boss today?”

The bartender looked her over, a flash of recognition in his eyes. Then he smiled. “The office.” He gestured at a door marked _Private_. “Go on up, it’s through there.”

Ginny hesitated only for a moment. She could just go away, she didn’t have to seek him out. But her sense of honour dictated she should thank him, and, as she was here, she might as well get it over with.

The doubt returned twice as forcefully when she stood before his door, her hand raised to knock, but unable to move. She took a deep breath and rapped her knuckles on the door.

“Come in.”

The deep, mellow voice sent a shiver down her spine. She entered the office and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and examining the room.

It was a large office, a floor to ceiling window overlooking the club on one side, and a similar window on the other side, where the blinds were now closed. Draco Malfoy sat behind a big mahogany desk, bent over a stack of ledgers, hair tousled, glasses slightly askew on his nose, dressed in a casual white shirt that had the top buttons undone and the sleeves folded back over his arms. He looked up when she entered, the vaguely polite smile fading into a barely suppressed gasp of surprise.

“I didn’t realise there was a window into the club,” Ginny blurted out. The sight of Malfoy’s bare arms, the Dark Mark starkly contrasting with his pale skin, had disconcerted her.

“It’s supposed to be a one-way window. I like to keep an eye on what’s happening on the floor now and then.”

Had Malfoy’s voice been quite so gravelly last time they spoke? Had it ever been? Ginny didn’t remember, and didn’t care. Her eyes lingered on the Dark Mark, then snapped up to Malfoy’s face. Since when did he wear glasses, anyway?

“Like you kept an eye on me last week?” She scrutinised his expression for any indication of… of what exactly, she didn’t know, but she wanted his smooth mask of indifference to crack. She didn’t realise she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer, until her lungs began to burn with the need for oxygen.

Malfoy seemed to study her for an extraordinarily long time, slowly taking his glasses off and placing them carefully on the desk before he answered. “You’re a special case.”

Ginny let her breath escape in a soft hiss. It was now or never. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did then. And also apologise for my behaviour. I was rude and ungrateful. I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of her mouth in an incoherent jumble, nothing like the prettily worded apology she’d prepared beforehand. She flushed a little.

She waited for Malfoy’s reaction. His eyes widened, then his lips curled up in a smile. She’d never seen him smile before. She promptly forgot how to breathe.

Malfoy rose from his seat with the grace of a panther and stalked over to her, his eyes intent on hers. She couldn’t look away. She wanted him close and she never wanted him to reach her. One hand clutched the door handle, ready to escape. The other clenched around that wrist stopping any movement.

Then he was there, right in front of her, so close she could see that hint of freckles again. His eyes gleamed bright as lightning. She was surrounded by his scent, fresh grass, peppermint, something wooden. His smile was even more brilliant up close. Her heart beat an irregular tattoo in her chest, so violently she was sure he could hear it.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

Ginny blinked in confusion. It was suddenly hard to remember what their conversation had been about. She licked her lips unconsciously, only realising what she’d done when his eyes dropped to her mouth and then flicked up again, searching her face. His smile faltered a little, and he bit his lip.

Ginny’s breath came shallow and fast. The door was hard against her back, the doorknob cold between her fingers. She knew what was happening. She knew what she _wanted_ to happen.

When she next licked her lips, it was slow, sensuous, deliberate. Her eyes held a challenge she hoped he wouldn’t resist.

From Malfoy’s sharp intake of breath she knew that he had seen the challenge. He brought his right hand up and flattened it against the door next to her head. His left hand trailed slowly along the edge of her silk dress, from the point of the deep V-neck all the way up to her shoulder. His fingers just about brushed her bare skin, making goosebumps erupt all over her chest. He caged her against the door, leaning in a little closer, his lips soft and open.

But she had made the mistake to look down as his hand travelled up along her dress. She couldn’t help but notice the Dark Mark on his arm. She blanched, her eyes widening, not in lust but in fear. She suppressed those feelings immediately, but it was too late. He hadn’t moved away from her, but she saw in his face that the desire was gone. His face had shuttered once more, his grey eyes dark as thunder.

“Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned, Weasley,” he said, hints of disappointment and anger in his voice.

Ginny let go of the door and brought her hands up to his shirt, fingering his buttons. Her eyes were riveted on his. She wanted to see that lightning again. “I do want to burn.” The moment she said it, she knew it was true.

Malfoy only shook his head. “That’s part of me, Weasley,” he said, with a nod to the Mark. “If you can’t stand the sight of it, you can’t stand the sight of me.”

And with an air of finality, he pushed himself away from the door and returned to his desk. He took up his quill again and began to make notes, ignoring her presence.

Ginny waited for him to look up, for herself to find the right words, but as neither seemed to happen, she eventually gave up, and, with a sigh, she decided to leave.

“Goodnight, then, Malfoy,” she said over her shoulder, before closing the door behind her.


	2. Ignite

The door closed behind her with a sense of finality that made Draco’s heart drop. He let out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard to turn away from her. He’d done it so often in the past, when young witches only wanted him for his Mark - or froze when they saw it. He hated it. He hated all it stood for, but it was a part of him. It was his history. And he’d long ago decided that he’d only allow those who respected that history close. 

_ Ginny Weasley. _

Who’d have thought it would be Ginny Weasley who’d almost made him break that promise. He had been sorely tempted by that little fiendfyre in a clingy teal dress. Sweet Circe, how he’d been tempted. 

But she was gone now, and he was uncomfortably hard. He adjusted himself in his trousers but refused to give in. The numbers would be distraction enough, surely. But every time he tried to focus on the ledgers before him, he remembered the soft press of her fingers on his chest, the sparkle of lust in her eyes, the way her tongue had darted out and licked her lips, first unconsciously, then very, very deliberately. 

He’d known it was deliberate. 

_ Ginny Weasley. _

It had been almost irresistible, to have someone like her, someone who  _ knew _ , like no other, what he had been, try to seduce him. He let out a groan, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, and his hand went to his trousers almost without his permission.

The door flew open with a bang and he shot up, half mortified, half angry at being interrupted, but his scathing reproof died on his lips when he saw her.

_ Ginny Weasley. _

She advanced on him, her brown eyes gleaming gold in the desk lamp light, with single-minded determination, her red hair flaring behind her like wings of fire. Her fists connected with his desk in a dull thud and she leaned towards him. He almost leaned back in his chair but remembered, at the very last moment, that this was  _ his _ office and  _ he _ was in charge.

“What do you--”

She didn’t give him the time to finish. “You can’t blame me for reacting the way I did, Malfoy. You were  _ there _ . At Hogwarts. You were  _ there _ during that awful year and you know exactly what I’ve had to endure from people bearing that same Mark.”

“I don’t--”

“You know what I think?” She leaned a little closer, so close he could see the small scar under her right eye, which he knew she had gained in that horrible year Death Eaters ruled the school. “I think you’re hiding behind that Mark. I think you’re using even the slightest reaction to it to push people away. Because you’re scared.”

Draco rose from his seat, putting his hands flat on the table and leaning towards her. Her words had hit home, but he didn’t want to let on. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

She laughed. She threw her head back and laughed, and laughed, until he wondered whether she had gotten a case of the hysterics and needed a slap or a glass of cold water in her face. Which one would result with him keeping his balls, though? That was the real question.

She collapsed in a chair, still snickering to herself, and he realised how young she suddenly looked. No longer the sultry seductress, but the twenty-two year old young woman she really was. 

“I dated Harry Potter for three years after the War. How do you think he reacted whenever my eyes lingered on his lightning scar?” She shook her head, a fond smile still on her lips. “Different sides of the same coin, Malfoy. You know that’s true.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” He couldn’t stop the question falling from his lips, though he knew it was churlish and petulant. “You want more of the same, just on the Dark side this time?” 

Ginny tilted her head as she studied him, and he became aware of the ridiculous figure he must present, leaning over his desk in a bad imitation of Snape, Merlin bless his soul. He straightened and folded his arms, waiting for her answer. 

“I came to say thank you.”

“An owl might have done.” He hadn’t really thought of it that way before the words left his mouth, but it was true. A few lines on parchment would have been enough if she’d never wanted to see him again.

“I wanted to thank you in person. Don’t interrupt me, Malfoy. I wasn’t finished yet.” She paused, looking at him with that same challenge in her eyes that had nearly undone him before. He made the universal sign of locking his mouth and throwing away the key and waited. When she didn’t continue right away, he raised his eyebrow in question, tapping his fingers on his arm to show his impatience. She scowled at him in return. “You really are infuriating. I thought, for a moment, that I must have imagined that, last time, but I hadn’t, had I?”

Draco remained true to his promise not to speak and merely shrugged. Everyone always told him he was infuriating, even his mother said so when he’d scared off yet another perfectly acceptable pureblood girl she’d casually invited over for tea, just when he had planned to visit her. He was tired of her matchmaking. His mouth twitched in distaste as he thought of that last visit. The girl had left crying, and of course she’d blamed him. She always blamed him.

“I thought you were infuriating, but I also thought we… perhaps… had a moment?” Ginny bit her lip and glanced down at the desk, as if to avoid his gaze. “So I wanted to see you again, to see if that… moment… could be recreated. If that had been my imagination, too.” 

Draco would have collapsed on the floor if his legs hadn’t been leaning against his chair. Of course they’d had a moment, back then, when she had stared at him as if she saw the sun for the first time. He’d thought it had been the alcohol. He’d wanted to think that. 

She took a deep breath and rushed out the next words. “I don’t think it was. My imagination, I mean.” She looked up now, her eyes searching his face for any reaction, but he knew she would find none. He’d perfected the impassive mask at a very young age. 

She rose from her seat, and a moment later she had slipped in between the desk and him, her body pressing against him in the most uncomfortable places. The touch of her fingers on his chest was not merely his brain reliving a memory this time. 

“I didn’t imagine it, did I?”

Her voice seemed to come from far away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try to compose himself, but that only made him take a deep gulp of her scent, wild flowers and cloves and something so uniquely hers, he had no idea what it might be. But he wanted to find out. 

“You didn’t imagine it.” He hardly realised he had spoken. Then one arm snaked around his neck and she brushed against his straining erection and his eyes popped open in surprise. “Ginny, don’t. Don’t do this.”

She frowned at him, confused, almost hurt, and he felt compelled to explain. “I’ve had more than my share of attention from people who only want me because of my Mark, and I’ve had more than enough women repulsed by my Mark. If this is going to be a problem,” he said, nodding at his Mark, “then you should go.”

She didn’t move away, but she didn’t press herself closer, either. The silence between them seemed to last forever, but then she finally spoke. “I don’t know, Draco. I can’t tell you if it will become a problem. All I can say is… I have more reasons than many to hate your family, your father in particular. I have every reason to stay away, and yet I’m here. I’m right here. Doesn’t that show I’m willing to try?”

“It shows you’re a damned fool, Ginevra Weasley.”

She laughed, and her other arm curled around his neck too, pressing their bodies close together. He could feel every soft curve, every taut muscle, every single bit of her leaning against him. “Not many men dare call me by my full name.”

He snorted, then bent his head down until his forehead rested against hers. “Then I must be a fool, as well.”

“So why not give me a chance?” Her breath ghosted over his lips and her nose bumped his gently. He wanted to tell her that it was folly, that the water between their families was too deep, that the scars they both carried from the War were too raw. That there was someone out there for her who deserved her, fierce, protective, courageous Ginevra Weasley. That he was not that person. 

Then her lips were on his, and all his thoughts fled. Her touch spread through him like slow burning fire, consuming him, eviscerating him, and leaving him utterly, completely destroyed, as if nothing in life had made sense up until then. She set off sparks in parts of his body he’d forgotten he could feel that excitement, shivers running down his spine with every soft kiss, and then her tongue traced the seam of his mouth and he was lost. He heard a moan and wasn’t sure whether it had been him or her, but then her tongue was battling with his and he had never felt so alive. His hands found her waist almost of their own accord, and he trailed soft patterns up and down her sides while she assaulted his mouth. Her nails scraped his scalp and he nearly came there and then, but he didn’t care. He never wanted that kiss to end. 

And then she was gone. He was so dazed that he hardly noticed her slipping out of his arms, and it wasn’t until she’d almost made it to the door that he regained some semblance of control.

She turned around before stepping through and sent him a satisfied smile. “I liked that,” she said. “I liked that very much indeed, and I would love a repeat performance. I suggest you take me out to dinner first, though. Tomorrow? Pick me up at eight. Let me know the dress code.” Then she winked at him. “Goodnight, Draco.”

Draco sank down in his chair as soon as she was out of sight and closed the door with a lazy swish of his wand. He added a locking and silencing spell for good measure. There was no pretending this erection would go away without help. Sweet Circe, what a woman. Those lips, those eyes alight with challenge, the self-assurance and yet vulnerability… He only had to stroke once, the memory of that kiss pushing him over the edge.

Dinner. He’d best make a reservation. 

**Author's Note:**

> So does it end here? For now, yes...


End file.
